Le retour de Greg Sanders
by Welly
Summary: Greg goes back to work.


Title: Le Retour de Greg Sanders Author: Welly Fandom: CSI Pairings: implied between Nick and Trace. it doesn't last long though.  
Status: Complete Archive: If you really want to, but i would appreciate it everso if you told me.  
Email: Series/sequel: Sequel to "au revoir, Sara Sidle". Number two in "la vie, quelquefois elle peut etre injuste"  
Disclaimer: I have no imagination, so i borrowed these characters (except 'trace'). Don't sue, I can't afford it.  
Spoilers: None Summary: Sara's temp is called 'trace'. she used to work with Greg in NY, and it turns out it wasn't a happy relationship... 

A/N no character killing this time, don't worry, just a fair amount of misery...

-------------------------------------------

It had now been two weeks since Greg's attack. He decided he needed to go back to work. He needed to do something, he was afraid he'd go mad if he stayed at home any longer. So, on the day he went back to work, he had his stitches taken out in the morning, and in the evening, he went back to the lab. After he clocked in, the first person he met was Grissom.

"Grissom," said Greg. "Thank you for letting me come back."

"It's good to have you back," said Grissom. "We missed you."

"Yeah?" said Greg.

"Yes," said Grissom.

"Well," said Greg. "I'll be in the DNA lab."

"You take it easy," said Grissom.

"I will," said Greg.

"Good," said Grissom. "I'll speak to you later."

"Okay," said Greg. He went to the DNA lab, and set about his work. The next person to come and see him was Warrick.

"Greggo!" he said. "You're back."

"Yeah!" said Greg. "I am."

"You better?" asked Warrick, remembering the last time he'd seen Greg.

"I'm getting there," said Greg.

"Good," said Warrick. "I'm glad you're back, your temp was an idiot."

"An idiot?" asked Greg.

"Completely," said Warrick.

"So I guess it's good I'm back," said Greg.

"Oh, it's more than good," said Warrick.

Greg smiled, for the first time in several days.

Warrick's pager beeped.

"You should go," said Greg.

"Yeah," said Warrick. "I'll see you later, 'ight?"

"Okay," said Greg.

Bobby and Archie were in the break room, discussing recent events, when Greg came in.

"Greggo!" said the two lab techs in unison.

"Guys!" said Greg. "I missed you."

"We missed you too."

"We heard about what happened," said Bobby.

"What did you hear?" asked Greg. He was curious to know how much everyone knew about what had happened to him.

"We heard you got the stuffing beat out of you by the same guy that murdered Sara," said Archie.

"Yeah, something like that," said Greg. He was happy that Bobby and Archie didn't know the whole story. He prefered it the fewer the number of people that knew, the better. He just wondered how many people did actually know the whole story.

"So d'you wanta to know the latest gossip?" asked Bobby.

"Yes," said Greg. "What have I missed?"

"Nick and the temp totally have the hots for each other," said Bobby.

"Yeah," said Archie. "She is very hot."

"what's she like?" asked Greg.

"Tall, blonde-" began Archie.

"Great set of legs," said Bobby.

"Great legs," said Archie.

"And everyone's waiting for him to ask her out," said Bobby.

"I'm looking forward to meeting her," said Greg. "What's her name?"

"Trace Hennessee," said Bobby.

Greg froze. He recognised the name, but there was no way it could be the 'Trace' he knew, was there?

"What?" asked Archie. "You know her?"

"I used to know 'a' Trace Hennessee," said Greg, "but that was back when I lived in New York."

"Yeh," said Bobby. "That's where she's from."

"What's she doing here?" asked Greg.

"She wanted to do some travelling, and cut back on her hours," said Archie.

"Right," said Greg.

Greg finished his shift, clocked out, and went to his car. As he shut the door, he burst into tears. He was happy because he'd managed to get through his whole 12-hour first shift back in one piece, but he was upset because Trace Hennessee was in town. Greg did not have a good relationship with Trace, and the fact that she was in Vegas did nothing but bring back bad memories, memories that Greg would rather forget. Greg was upset that everyone thought Trace was so nice. They had no idea what she was really like, but Greg did. He knew that she wasn't a nice person, but he couldn't tell anyone. Not anyone.

The next day, Greg debated whether or not to go to work, but in the end, he decided to go in. He wasn't going to let Trace ruin his work. After all, Greg had more of a right to be there. Greg had been working at the Las Vegas crime lab for eight years, and Trace was only a temp. Greg just hoped he could get through another shift without seeing her.

Greg would be wrong.

A few hours into his shift, when Greg was stood staring down a microscope, ignoring the pain in his wrist, he heard a voice right by his ear.

"Hello Greg."

It was Trace.

Greg span around.

"It's been a while," said Trace.

Greg didn't say anything.

"How have you been?" asked Trace.

Greg remained silent. He didn't know what to say, and he was trembling slightly.

"Are you going to say anything?" asked Trace.

"W-what are you doing here?" asked Greg.

"That's not a very welcoming greeting," said Trace.

"What do you want me to say?" asked Greg.

"Oh, I don't know," said Trace, stepping toward Greg

Greg stepped backward, and was only prevented from leaving the lab by the wall.

"Maybe 'I missed you', or'How have you been?'" suggested Trace.

"Trace," said Greg.

Trace stepped toward Greg until she was very much invading his personal space. "Greg," she said softly, running her hand down Greg's cheek. "I missed you."

Greg shuddered as she touched his face. He wished the ground would just swalow him up. Greg closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, he was sitll in the DNA lab, and she was still stood in front of him. Trace moved her hand from Greg's cheek to his wrist, and pulled it up to eye level.

"What's wrong with your wrist?"

"It's fractured," said Greg.

"Does it hurt?" asked Trace.

"Not as much as the first time," said Greg.

Trace sighed. "You're not still bitter about that, are you?" asked Trace.

"I spent my 21st birthday in a coma because of you," said Greg.

Trace squeezed Greg's wrist, and he flinched from the pain.

"Get away from me," said Greg, pulling his wrist free.

"Is there a problem here?" asked Grissom, who was stood in the doorway.

"No," said Trace, subtly stepping away from Greg.

"Greg?" asked Grissom.

"There's no problem," lied Greg. A little voice inside him was screaming out to Grissom that there was a problem, a very big problem.

"Sure?" asked Grissom.

"Yes," said Greg, clearing his throat.

"I better get back to work," said Trace.

"Franco's looking for you actually," said Grissom.

"Right," said Trace. "I'll be in the print lab."

Greg watched Trace leave his lab, and then turned to Grissom. "What's up?"

"I was actually going to ask you that," said Grissom.

"Me?" said Greg. "I'm fine."

"There's nothing you want to talk to me about?" asked Grissom.

"No," said Greg.

"Are you settling back into work okay?"

"Yup."

"Not working too hard?"

"Nope."

"Good," said Grissom. "I'll see you later then."

"Okay," said Greg.

Grissom gave Greg a curious look.

"I'm fine," said Greg. He wasn't fine, he just wished that Grissom would leave.

Grissom eventually did leave, and as soon as the door shut, Greg sat down, and as soon as the door shut, Greg sat down, and put his head in his hands. All the memories of eight years earlier came flooding back, overwhelming him. He suddenly felt a wave of nausea. He rushed to the men's room, and threw up.

Greg Sanders was twenty years olf. He'd been working in the New York crime lab for ine months now. His best friend at the lab was a guy called Charles, but everyone called im Mash, because his last name was Marshall.

On May the sixth, Greg was running some DNA through the databases, when he got a hit he wasn't expecting. A little window with the name "Tracey Hennessee" appeared. Greg checked the figures again. Maybe he was wrong. As it turned out, he wasn't wrong.

"Eggo!" came a voice by Greg's ear.

Greg jumped.

"What'cha doing?"

"Not much," said Greg.

"Isn't that-?"

"Yeah," said Greg, looking at his monitor.

"What's going on?" asked Mash.

"I don't know," said Greg. "Maybe she contaminated the evidence."

"Maybe she did it," said Mash.

"Don't be stupid!"

"Oh, you're just biased 'cause you've got the hots for her," said Mash.

"That's so not true," said Greg, blushing slightly.

"Come on Eggo," said Mash. "I've seen the way you go all gooey whenever she's in the room."

"What?!"

"Everyone knows you fancy her," said Mash.

"Everyone?" asked Greg.

"Everyone," replied Mash.

"Oh," said Greg.

"You have to talk to her about this," said Mash.

"I will," said Greg.

After he finished his shift, he went and found Trace.

"What's up Greg?" she asked.

"I need to talk to you about something," said Greg.

"What?" asked Trace.

"I got a hit on the DNA for a case," said Greg. "It came back 'you'."

"Maybe you made a mistake," said Trace.

"I don't think I did," said Greg. "So, the way I see it, either you contaminated the evidence, or you're a murderer."

"I see," said Trace.

"So which are you?" asked Greg.

"What sort of question is that?" asked Trace. "Greg, you're asking me to choose between being a bad CSI, and being a murderer."

"I know," said Greg.

"I won't do it," said Trace.

"Fair enough," said Greg. "But you do know I have to tell my boss."

"I'll explain to him," said Trace.

"Then do it soon," said Greg, "'cause if he finds out before we tell him, then I could lose my job."

"I know," said Trace.

The next day, at the end of his shift, Greg saw Trace again. "Did you talk to him?"

"Not yet," said Trace.

"Trace!" said Greg. "Come on!"

"I'll do it tomorriw, I swear," said Trace.

"Fine," said Greg. "But if you don't-"

"I will," said Trace.

"Okay," said Greg. He got his jacket from his locker, and left the lab. He was walking home, and he stopped on a bridge near the aparment he was living in. Greg looked at his watch. It was 00:07. May the 8th. Greg's nirthday. Greg wondered if anyone would remember. He knew his family would phone from Norway. He knew they would phone at a bad time, they sitll hadn't got used to the difference in time from San Francisco, where Greg had qualified as a DNA tech, and New York, where he now worked.

Someone grabbed Greg from behind, and span him round.

It was Trace.

"Trace!" said Greg.

"Hello Greg," said Trace.

"What are you doing here?" asked Greg, trying to pull his arm free, but Trace just tightened her grip.

"Trace, let go."

"Yesterday," began Trace. "You asked me to make a decision."

"Huh?" said Greg. He looked up and down the street. It was deserted.

"You asked me to choose between being a bad CSI and being a murderer," said Trace.

"I know," said Greg. "I probably shouldn't've done that."

"I've made my decision," said Trace.

"You have?" said Greg.

"Yes," said Trace. She grabbed Greg by his hair, and forced his head to the side. She leaned in right close to the young lab tech. He could feel her breathing on him, and it wasn't a feeling he liked. She leaned into Greg's ear, and, whispering, told Greg "I'm a murderer."

Greg froze. He was in shock. This beautiful woman he fancied had just confessed to being a murderer. Greg didn't know what to do.

Trace stepped backward slightly, and looked Greg right in the eyes. "So, gossip in the lab says that you've got the hots for me. But I'll be honest with you Greg, it's not gonna work. You are cute and everything though." She ran her hand down Greg's cheek, and then she closed her eyes and kissed him. Trace then said "Happy Birthday Greg," and pushed the young lab tech off the bridge. She didn't even flinch as she heard the sound of bones cracking, and she stood for a few minutes, looking at Greg, lying unconscious on the grass. She thought he was dead.

Nick waas working on a case. He'd just finished trying to figure out what had caused the blood spatter patterns at his crime scene. It was a chainsaw. Nick had enjoyed his experiment, but in the process, he'd gotten covered in paint. He needed to clean up. He went to the men's room, and washed his face. A few seconds later, Greg came out of one of the cubicles. "Greggo!" said Nick cheerily. "How's it going?"

"Alright," said Greg, splashing water onto his face. "You seem happy."

"I am," said Nick. "I just asked Trace out."

"You did what?!" said Greg, drying his hands.

"What?" asked Nick.

"Nothing," said Greg.

"Shouldn't I ask her out?" asked Nick.

"Forget I said anything," said Greg.

"Greg, if there's something I should know-"

"No," said Greg. "Just drop it, okay?"

"What's going on?" asked Nick.

"nothing," said Greg. "I gotta go."

"Greg!" said Nick as the door to the men's room swung shut.

"Trace, can I ask you something?" asked Nick.

"Sure," smiled Trace.

"What's the deal with you and Greg?" asked Nick.

"How do you mean? "asked Trace, innocently.

"Well, I know you two used to work together in New York, and I got the impression that you've got some other kind of history," said Nick.

"Well," said Trace. "He did used to have a bit of a crush on me."

"I can see why," said Nick.

"Oh Nick," said Trace, putting her hand on Nick's face. His pager went off.

"I gotta go."

"Okay," said Trace. "I'll see you after work."

Nick left the room, and Trace went to the DNA lab. Greg was in there by himself, mixing some solvents in a testtube. Trace closed the door behind her, and stood behind Greg. Greg put down the testtubes.

"Why are you here, Trace?"

"Why do you think I'm here?" asked Trace, putting her hand on Greg's shoulder.

"I don't know," said Greg, shuddering.

"I think you do," said Trace.

"I have no idea," said Greg.

Trace bent down slightly, so she could speak quieter. "What have you said to Nick?"

"Nothing," replied Greg.

"Don't lie to me Greg."

"I'm not lying," said Greg. "I've never said anything to anyone about what happened."

"Good," said Trace, smiling. "'Cause if you do, I'll make sure you die next time."

"Why are you doing this?" asked Greg, trembling slightly.

"Why are you making me?" asked Trace.

"I'm not making you do anything," said Greg. "Just leave me alone."

"Oh Greg," said Trace. "I wish I could."

"You're sick," said Greg.

Trace suddenly grabbed Greg by the neck, and cut off most of his air supply. "Listen to me Greg," she said quietly.

"Hey," said Warrick, pulling Trace away from Greg. He'd been walking past the DNA lab, and saw Trace grab Greg round the throat. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I, er-" began Trace.

"I'm taking you to Grissom," said Warrick.

"Is that really needed?" asked Trace.

"Are you kidding me?!" said Warrick. He turned to Greg. "Greggo, you okay?"

Greg nodded, gasping slightly for breath.

"Come on," said Warrick to Trace. "Get out of here." He marched the blonde out of the room, and returned about a minute later. "Greggo."

"Yeh?" said Greg quietly. His could breathe again now, though he was sitll breathing quite quickly.

"Grissom wants to see you," said Warrick.

"Why?" asked Greg.

"About what just happened," said Warrick.

"I don't want to tlak about it," said Greg.

"Come on," said Warrick, gently pulling Greg to his feet. The two of them went to Grissom's office. Grissom and Trace were sat in there, Grissom behind the desk, Trace in front of it.

"Hi Greg," said Grissom.

Warrick closed the door, and stood next to Greg. He knew he didn't have to stay, but he wanted to be there for moral support for Greg.

"Will one of you please explain to me what's going on," said Grissom.

Nobody said anything.

Greg didn't want to talk about what had happened, and anything Trace said would just incriminate her.

"Greg?" asked Grissom, looking up at Greg.

"I can't do this," said Greg, tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry." The young CSI opened the door, and ran out of the room.

Warrick followed him, down a corridor, out a firescape, and down a hill to a patch of grass at the back of the lab. "Greggo!"

Greg turned to face Warrick. "I can't do this. I can't handle her being here."

"I don't understand all this," said Warrick.

Greg sat down on the grass, and Warrick followed suit.

"It's a long story," said Greg, clearing his throat.

"Explain it to me," said Warrick.

"I can't," said Greg.

"Why not?" asked Warrick.

"I just can't," said Greg, welling up again.

"What's the history with you two?" asked Warrick.

"We used to work together in New York," said Greg, pulling his knees into his chest.

"Did you have a good relationship?" asked Warrick.

"In the beginning," said Greg.

"What changed?" asked Warrick.

"That's what I can't talk about," said Greg.

"Why not?" asked Warrick.

"Warrick," said Greg, shaking his head. "Don't make me talk about what happened. Please adon't."

"Okay," said Warrick. "Okay... Would it be in the database, what happened?"

Greg shook his head. "I didn't report it."

"Okay," said Warrick. "Is there anyone else that knows what happened?"

Greg shook his head. "I never told anyone."

"Noone knows?"

"Noone knows."

"Just you and her?"

"Just me and her."

"Greg," said Warrick. "If you don't tell anyone about this, you won't be able to move on. As long as it's just you and her that know, she'll always have this power over you."

"I guess," said Greg, wiping his eyes.

"Will you tell me?" asked Warrick.

"I don't know," said Greg.

"I can help you," said Warrick, "but I can't do anything unless you talk to me."

"Okay," said Greg, admitting defeat. He knew Warrick was right. Greg took a deep breath.

"Take your time," said Warrick.

"When I was working in New York," began Greg. "I was running some DNA for a case. I got a hit. It was her."

"Go on," said Warrick.

"I confronted her about it, and she said she wouldn't choose between being a bad CSI and being a murderer," said Greg.

"When was all this?" asked Warrick.

"My 21st birthday," said Greg.

"So what did she do?" asked Warrick.

"I was walking home after my shift," said Greg. "She found me, and told me she'd made her decision."

"Which was-?"

"She's a murder," said Greg, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Go on," said Warrick.

"After that," said Greg, "she wished me a happy birthday, and she, she-"

Greg stumbled over his words, and burst into tears.

"Hey," said Warrick, putting his arm round Greg. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry," said Greg.

"It's okay," said Warrick.

Greg took another deep breath. "She wished me a happy birthday, and she pushed me off the bridge."

"Oh Greg!" said Warrick. "Man, I'm sorry."

"I saw her looking down at me," said Greg. "I couldn't move, and she was smiling at me. I don't remember anything after that."

"Greg," said Warrick, rubbing Greg's head. "I don't know what to say... Were you hurt?"

"I was in a coma for two weeks," said Greg. "I was in the hospital for five weeks after that, and it was September before I went back to work. I couldn't hack being around her, she said she'd kill me if I told anyone, so I quit. I've worked here ever since."

"Talk to me Trace," asked Grissom.

"It's nothing," said Trace.

"You saw the way Greg left," said Grissom. "What did you say to him?"

"Nothing," said Trace.

The door to the office opened, and Warrick came in. He closed the door behind him.

"Warrick," said Grissom, acknowledging the CSI.

Warrick stepped over to Trace. "You sadistic son of a-"

"Warrick!" said Grissom, interrupting.

"What did he say to you?" asked Trace.

"He told me what you did to him," said Warrick.

"Warrick?" asked Grissom.

"On Greg's 21st birthday," said Warrick. "He found out Trace was a murderer. She reacted by throwing him off a bridge."

"Trace?" asked Grissom.

"That's not true," said Trace.

"How would you describe it?" spat Warrick.

"He slipped," said Trace.

Warrick rolled his eyes.

"I tried to catch him, but he fell, so I called an ambulance."

"That's BS," said Warrick.

There was a quiet knock at the door.

"Come in," said Grissom.

The door to the room opened. Greg came in.

"Greg!" said Warrick. He wasn't expecting Greg to come anywhere near Trace.

"Can I say aomething?" asked Greg.

"Please do," said Grissom, who was still feeling very confused.

"I just want all of this to stop," said Greg. "Trace, I'm not going to try and press charges for what happened."

"Oh Greg," said Trace, steppingn over to the young CSI. "Thankyou."

"I'm not doing it for you," said Greg. "I just want this to stop. I'm not going to let you ruin my life anymore"

"Greg," said Trace, putting her hand on Greg's cheek.

"Don't," said Greg, pulling her hand off him. "I am, however, going to ask for that case to be reopened. Trace, I know you murdered him, and I have to say something."

Trace slapped Greg across the face.

"Hey," said Warrick, grabbing Trace's arm.

"You're looking happier," said Warrick, going into the DNA lab. Trace had now been in jail for a month.

"I am happier," said Greg, smiling slightly.

"Is that 'cause Trace has gone?" asked Warrick.

"Partly," said Greg.

"How do you mean?"

"I'm safe."


End file.
